


Case 21: The Adventure Of The Tousled Tyro (1880)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [29]
Category: Columbo, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Cake, Destiel - Freeform, England (Country), F/M, Framing Story, Gunshot Wounds, Johnlock - Freeform, London, M/M, Police, Politics, United States, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-08-06 22:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16396190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Post-election political shenanigans are about to add to Sergeant Victor Henriksen's worries, as a visiting police lieutenant from the United States seems set on rubbing everyone up the wrong way. So he calls on Holmes for help, something that may or may not happen on a baking-day (hint: Henriksen).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [staunchlyblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/staunchlyblue/gifts).



_[Narration by Sergeant Victor Henriksen]_

My good lady wife says that politicians are like a baby's nappies – they need changing regularly and for pretty much the same reason! Our politics are different but we don't discuss them in the house, especially when the children are about. She also supports the women's suffrage movement which I am all right with as I suppose it will happen eventually. I was not rich enough to have the vote myself yet but there were already rumblings that that would change, especially now.

That spring we had a general election and Gladstone and his Liberals swept to power, turfing out Disraeli and his Conservatives. As I said I did not do politics, but one of the consequences of that result was going to be one of my two problems that year. The other was small, annoying - _and American!_

֍

I staggered into Mr. Holmes' house in Cramer Street feeling even more frazzled than usual for a Friday, thankful that by some fortunate coincidence I had arrived on Mrs. Hellingly's jam sponge day. Quite why Doctor Watson rolled his eyes when I and the maid carrying the delicious cake arrived at the same time, I had no idea.

“Ah Henriksen”, Mr. Holmes smiled. “Long time no see.”

I thought that Doctor Watson muttered something like 'as far back as the last baking day', but I could not be sure. I sank gratefully into the chair while Mr. Holmes cut me a slice of cake.

“You look exhausted”, he said. “Surely not the King Street Robbery still?”

I shook my head and bit into a delicious cake. My worries seemed to ease away, at least for a while.

“I have a new case”, he said. “You know that Mr. Disraeli took a pounding at the general election recently?”

“Yes?” Mr. Holmes said. “Neither the doctor nor I have much interest in politics but it affects my business sometimes. And there are of course my brothers.”

I knew that three of his brothers worked for the government, and had chanced to meet one of them here the one time. He had what was was undeniably one of the most slappable faces I had ever seen, and that's from someone who works with criminals!

“There's apparently this rule that politicos who have served more than a set time in high office get sent upstairs to the Lords”, I said. “All very la-di-da in my humble opinion especially as it'll only be those rejected by the voters. But the rule is that the losing party only gets to send up one fellow and two of Mr. Disraeli's losers both qualify.”

Mr. Holmes nodded.

“And I am to take it that Mr. Gladstone is not prepared to make an exception?” he asked looking perplexed for some reason.

“No”, I said. “Do you know something about this already, sir?”

He shook his head and I wondered how he always managed to look like he had just walked in from a tornado.

“I was just wondering why my brother Bacchus has not mentioned the matter to me”, he said.

“Small mercies!” Doctor Watson muttered.

I smiled. I knew that he too was not fond of Mr. Holmes' brother.

“Both Mr. Heseltine and Mr. Riseley are adamant that _they_ are entitled to it”, I sighed. “Mr. Heseltine has the longer service but Mr. Riseley has some noble blood in his family tree. Mr. Disraeli hates them both – can't say I disagree with him over that – and I would wager he will enjoy stringing them along for a bit.”

I was interrupted by the maid bringing in the newspaper, and I waited until Doctor Watson had crossed to take it from her and she had gone before continuing.

“And your other problem?” Mr. Holmes asked.

“The station's got a visiting detective from America”, I sighed. “Lieutenant Frank Columbo, just starting out and a painfully keen tyro if ever there was one. Odd thing is he has the same sort of long-coat as you do, sir, but to be honest he is nothing but a pain. Questions, questions, questions, and I can't turn around without falling over him.”

“Going back to your first problem”, Mr. Holmes said, “why should an argument between two politicians concern a London sergeant?”

“Mr. Heseltine complained that someone shot at him when he was walking in the park near our station”, I sighed. “Most likely one of those cap guns; we don't shoot politicians in this country. More's the pity some would say!”

“I rather think that you might have to change that opinion”, Doctor Watson said from where he had been looking at the newspaper. “Mr. Heseltine has just been shot at a second time and has sustained a severe injury. He is expected to recover but it was a close-run thing.”

I sighed. Impossibly my life has just got even more complicated. Oh well, at least there was cake.

I wondered why Doctor Watson was smiling like that.

֍

My boss at the station was Inspector Fraser Macdonald and I do not think I have ever known anyone with such a complete and utter loathing of Mankind. I sometimes thought that Mr. Holmes viewed our species with detachment but he had nothing on the inspector, who made a point of loathing everyone equally. Although to be fair this did work to my advantage; other bosses would have gone against me because of my skin colour but he made a point of disliking everyone equally. 

(In fairness I should add that, unlike many at the station, I knew a bit of the inspector's background and just why he was the way he was. Family of course. Sigh).

My boss' secretary Miss Sandra Couzens was also annoying in her own way, especially as she seemed to share some of his views. I would have suspected her of being interested in the fellow but he was more moral than the Archbishop of freaking Canterbury and she was engaged.

“He has been waiting for you to get back”, she said as soon as I walked back into the station. “The lieutenant has been causing trouble again.”

I sighed. I had only been gone for barely an hour.

“What is it this time?” I asked plaintively. 

“He seems to be of the opinion that this Heseltine shooting is more than it seems”, she said. “You can go straight in; I told him when he asked that I knew you would be out today.”

“How did you know that?” I asked.

“Easy”, she scoffed. “Mr. Holmes' landlady's baking day!”

I scowled at her. I was not _that_ predictable!

֍

The inspector was in many ways the archetypal Celtic warrior; indeed I always thought that he looked uncomfortable in his uniform. From the scowl on his rugged face he was probably having problems at home again. Many marriages hit the occasional rocky patch but his shrew of a wife was the sort who would broadcast her side of things to anyone who could not run away fast enough. She had tried to talk to me the one time and my already low opinion of her had somehow sunk even lower.

“Henriksen”, he growled. “Honest opinion. What do you think of our Yank?”

That was another of his good qualities, I thought. Too many of the top brass wanted to be only told how wonderful they were and everything they did was; he wanted frankness and did not as some were wont to do come down on those who spoke the open and honest truth.

“He reminds me a bit of Mr. Holmes”, I said, “especially the untidiness and that coat. But I think he is a lot cleverer than he looks.”

“Why?” the inspector demanded.

“I took him with me on the Carswell investigation last week”, I said, “and he spotted that one of the footmen knew something. He seems to know people, which is useful.”

“He thinks this Heseltine shooting is more than it seems”, the inspector said. “Can't stand politicians on principle myself. The idiot's doctor says the wound was real enough; a couple of inches to the right and Mrs. Heseltine would've been short-changed.”

I smiled at the euphemism.

“Would you like us to go round and make inquiries?” I said. I had the usual ton of paperwork to do and such matters would normally be allocated to a constable, but as the visiting lieutenant's contact I currently had more street work than usual. Although the inspector had very fairly shifted some of my paperwork to others as a result.

“Yes.”

That was a yes, then.

֍


	2. Chapter 2

One of the many annoying things about the Yank was his keenness. I hardly had time to get my things at my desk before he was on to me.

“I made some inquiries as to Mr. Riseley, sir”, he said, far too eager for anyone at this time of a morning (and seriously he looked even more bedraggled than Mr. Holmes). “He was attending a party at your Houses of Parliament the whole time. But he could have used a third party.”

“He most likely would have done”, I had to agree. Mr. Riseley was one of those few but annoying anti-gun people who always refused to have anything to do with guns and was also reputedly highly-strung, having had a panic attack when someone had once fired a gun near him (not at him, worse luck). “But we don't usually shoot our political rivals in this country.”

He looked at me curiously.

“Small price to pay perhaps, sir?” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked. 

“Well, for keeping him in the news while this decision is being made”, he said. “Even if your Mr. Riseley has a rock-solid alibi, people will wonder. A bullet grazing the leg might be worth a place in your House of Lords.”

I did not know what was more annoying; his cynicism or the fact that he might well be right.

“But how could it be proved?” I asked reasonably. “I can hardly accuse a top politico of lying, can I? They'd have my career before sunset!”

He looked at me shrewdly.

“Your friend Mr. Holmes is said to have some interesting friends”, he said. “Perhaps one of them might be of use?

I looked at him suspiciously. What was he up to?

֍

The following day the two of us went to one of the smarter addresses in Mayfair – seriously I could have fed my family for a year on what one of these places must have cost to run a month! - where we met Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson. The similarity between the former and the lieutenant had both the doctor and I hiding grins and Mr. Holmes looking suspiciously at us both. The doctor blushed and checked his watch.

“Half-past ten”, he said. “He should be here now.”

“Here he comes”, I said, looking to where a smartly-attired delivery man was walking along looking at the various house names. Sure enough he reached 'Westland House' and ascended the steps to ring the bell. A footman answered and they had words, then the footman went away.

“Is that Mr. Riseley?” Doctor Watson asked as a second and somewhat rotund gentleman stopped in his progress along the side of the square just by the house. Mr. Holmes shook his head.

“An actor friend of mine disguised to look like him”, Mr. Holmes said. “Not that he is much better than our quarry but I made sure that he has a reasonably strong alibi for this fine morning.”

“What alibi?” I asked.

“He is attending Lady Bracklesham's engagement party”, he said.

I shook my head at that. Lady Henrietta Bracklesham, sixty if she was a day despite her claims to be forty-nine, getting engaged to a young buck half her age. Nobs these days!

I recognized Mr. Heseltine coming to the door and the delivery man telling him presumably that he had to sign for the item in person. The politico was holding the notebook provided when he looked up and saw the figure of what he must have presumed was his rival just a few yards away on the pavement – a rival who had suddenly produced a gun and was aiming it straight at him. He yelped in horror, threw the notebook at the delivery man and turned to flee back into the house but.....

Ouch! Right in the rear!

Doctor Watson and Mr. Holmes immediately hurried over to the house and the two of us followed them; I noted that the delivery man and the fake shooter had both made swift exits. The door to the house was still open as two footmen had helped the stricken man inside, and we all four piled through. Mr. Heseltine was sat on a large couch in the obscenely large hallway, looking shocked.

“That bastard shot me!” he gasped.

“I am a doctor”, Doctor Watson said. “The wound must be attended to immediately. Let us get you to a room so you can be tended to.”

As I had suspected, the man's face suddenly changed.

“Er, that is all right thank you”, he said. “I can send a servant to get my own doctor, Heath. He lives only a couple of streets away.”

“I suppose that that is understandable”, Mr. Holmes said. “And provided the bullet was not poisoned or anything, you may survive.”

The politico went deathly pale.

“P... p... poisoned?” he gasped.

“Oh yes”, Mr. Holmes said. “Very fast-acting some of the latest ones; death follows in as little as a quarter of an hour if it is not removed and the wound cleansed. But you _may_ be lucky if you wait for your own doctor to arrive, assuming he is available. Or you _may_ be not.”

I could see the conflicting emotions on the fellow's face, and the moment that he cracked.

“Doctor?” he asked.

֍

I suppose that there were more pleasurable sights that a crooked politico pleading not to have his misdoings broadcast to the world. Somewhere. But I would settle for this right now.

“This is disgusting!” Doctor Watson thundered at his patient. “I remove a bullet from your backside then I find that you suffered no injury to your leg whatsoever.”

“But that rat shot at me!” Mr. Heseltine whined. “You must have seen him!”

“Seen who?” the lieutenant asked.

“Mr. Riseley”, Mr. Heseltine said. “He was right there with a gun. I saw him with my own eyes.”

“Rather unfortunately for you”, Mr. Holmes said, “I happen to know that Mr. Riseley is currently attending Lady Bracklesham's engagement party, where he doubtless has any number of witnesses to attest to the fact he is two miles from here.”

“And the worst thing of all is that Doctor Heath had to have been involved in this cover-up!” the doctor snapped. “I shall be having words with his employers about his very obvious misdiagnosis.”

“He will probably claim that Mr. Heseltine here paid him so to do”, Mr. Holmes said diffidently. “That would not doubt reduce the sanctions to be levied against him – _if_ he has proof of those payments.”

Judging from the sudden redness of Mr. Heseltine's face, I guessed that his doctor _did_ have proof of those payments.

“It is a pity that you were not prepared to suffer a little more pain for such a great gain”, Mr. Holmes went on. “Mr. Disraeli will no doubt nominate Mr. Riseley for elevation to the House of Lords, and you..... doubtless you will be in the _'Times'_ too if perhaps for rather less salubrious reasons.”

Who knew that politicos used such language?

֍

“How come you suspected him of lying about the attack?” I asked the lieutenant as we walked back to the station. 

He grinned slyly.

“Two things really”, he said. “First, never trust a politician. They're crooks both sides of the Pond and there's no trick they won't stoop to if if gets them to the top.”

“And second?” I asked.

“I was out with Constable Knowles while you were 'just happening' to visit your friend on one of his landlady's baking days”, he said (I scowled at him for that totally uncalled for if perhaps vaguely arguable observation). “And we came through Arthur Square just as he was seeing his wife off in their carriage. Not a trace of a limp on him despite his supposed major injury.”

“So you knew all along?” I asked. He nodded.

“Mrs. Columbo said to always watch folks in power”, he said. “Like everything else, she's right about that.”

“She did not accompany you on this trip?” I asked. He shook his head.

“She hates travel by sea”, he said. “Luckily we live out west, so I shall have plenty of time when I get back.”

“Plenty of time for what?” I asked, confused.

“To send her the biggest bunch of flowers I can buy when I get back”, he said. “Every woman loves to be wanted, sergeant.”

I made a mental note to buy Valerie a box of chocolates today. He was of course right on that.

Even if he did look as scruffy and unkempt as Mr. Holmes himself!

֍


End file.
